Duncan shrugged. “He likes cleaning. I don’t give a shit. Sounds fair to me.”

“That sounds fucked up!”

He flinched at her language.

“I’m not sleeping out here with the stink of empty beer bottles.” She moved to the coffee table. “Help me out here, bro.”

He made a frustrated sound but followed along and helped her clean up.

“We can do the kitchen in the morning. All of us. Not just Marc. At least I have a semi-clean place to sleep. Cheese-its, I didn’t think I was moving into a frat house.”

“It’s not that bad. And you’re not moving in.”

“Where’s your dishwasher detergent?”

“Here.” Duncan opened the cupboard beneath the sink and handed her a tablet. She inserted it in the dishwasher holder, closed the door, and pushed the button to start it.

“There. Okay. Bedtime. See you tomorrow.” She paused. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I appreciate it.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome. You know you can visit anytime. But we should talk. About what the hell you’re doing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Maybe Sunday.”

“Yeah. We have a day off.”

He disappeared down the hall to his room. She leaned against the counter for a moment. They had a day off. That meant Marc too. Maybe she could convince Captain Codger to have some fun…hmmm…

Chapter 4

Marc wandered into the kitchen after his shower the next morning to hunt down some breakfast. Even though the Aces organization would give them food after their skate, something he appreciated with all his heart since he wasn’t much of a cook, he always needed something in his belly before their game day skate.

He glanced at the huddle of blankets on the couch. The fall sun wasn’t even up yet so the room was still dark. Not even trying to be quiet, because, hey, Army should be up getting ready to go too, he opened cupboards and set about cracking eggs into a fry pan and microwaving himself a bowl of oatmeal. He popped four slices of bread into the big toaster, then brewed himself a cup of coffee in the Keurig.

He’d woken up with that heavy sense of failure that had been dogging him for weeks. They’d been playing crappy and no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get some of the guys motivated. As team captain, he felt the weight of responsibility. He’d spent hours talking to the coaching staff, going back and forth between them and the players, trying to figure out what was really wrong. It was making him nuts.

The blankets on the couch shifted. A head appeared. Long, red-gold hair shimmered on the white pillow and then big hazel eyes peered at him.

He gaped. Lovey was sleeping on the couch? What the hell?

“Morning,” she called across the big space. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.”

“Oh dear God. Seriously?”

“Yup.”

She lifted her arms above her head and stretched, then pushed aside the covers and swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Is that coffee I smell?”

“Yup.”

She rose then and sauntered toward him, and his chin dropped to his chest. She wore a tiny little turquoise camisole that hugged her slender body. White lace edged the top, as well as the bottom of the matching panties. Her long hair was tousled into messy waves around her shoulders. Holy flying fuck. He snapped his mouth closed and hurriedly turned to the beeping microwave to retrieve his bowl of oatmeal.

“Mmm, what’s that?” She came up behind him and peered around his shoulder, close enough that he could feel her body heat and smell that sweet scent of cupcakes.

“Oatmeal,” he croaked. He set the bowl on the counter and slammed the microwave door shut.

“Cool. And eggs? Those all for you?”

“Yeah. Four eggs, sunny-side up.”

He spooned strawberry jam onto his oatmeal and began to eat it while his eggs cooked. Lovey moved around the kitchen with a languid, still somewhat drowsy grace, her eyelids a little heavy, her mouth curved into a slight smile. “You might need to show me how to work this machine.” She peered at the Keurig.

“Ah…you can have my coffee.” He nodded at the cup sitting in the appliance. “I’ll make myself one in a few minutes.”

“You sure?” She gave him a slow blink.

“Yeah, no problem.” He scooped up a big spoonful of oatmeal and jam. “Milk is there if you need it. Sugar in the first cupboard.”

“Any sweetener? I don’t do sugar.”

“Uh…no.”

She smiled. “Guess not, huh. Well, I suppose a spoonful of sugar won’t kill me.”

She doctored the coffee and cupped the mug in both hands, leaning against the counter. After a sip, she said, “Ah. That’s good.”

He shoveled in more oatmeal, trying not to look at her body in the skimpy cami and panties, which she seemed completely unconcerned about. The thin fabric hugged her breasts, the panties left her long legs bare. He gulped. Then his toast popped and he moved over to pull it out and butter it.

“That was fun last night,” she chatted. “Sorry about disturbing your sleep.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got back to sleep right away.” That wasn’t entirely true. For some reason he’d kept thinking about Lovey. Then he’d fucking dreamt about her. This was not good.

“So what time is the game? How do I get my ticket?”

Oh right. He’d said he’d get her a ticket. But then he’d decided it should be Duncan who did it. Whatever. He sighed. “I’ll arrange for you to pick it up at the will call. You want two tickets?”

A cute little crease appeared between her eyebrows. “I don’t know. Going alone isn’t much fun, but I don’t really know anyone else to invite. Oh wait…I do know someone in Chicago. I was planning to contact her.” She set the mug down and pushed away. “I’ll try to get hold of her and see if she wants to go.”

“Great.”

He watched her stroll to the closet near the door and pull out a laptop case. He slid a spatula under his eggs and lifted them onto the plate with the buttered toast and moved to a stool at the counter. She set her laptop near him and opened it up.

“Facebook,” she murmured. “I’ll message her. Oh wow. Lots of updates.” She leaned forward, elbows on the counter. Marc’s eyes dropped to the cleavage revealed in this pose. And his dick stiffened. He almost groaned out loud at the picture she made. She might as well have been naked, her nipples clearly outlined through the thin, stretchy fabric. He dragged his gaze up to her face, her eyes focused intently on the screen, her white teeth sunk into that plush bottom lip. She released the lip to smile at something she read, then nodded.

Fuck, she was cute.

Marc closed his eyes and then reopened them to look at his eggs and toast. He needed to eat and get the hell out of there. He finished his breakfast, then rose and moved toward the dishwasher, going the long way around the island so he didn’t have to move past Lovey. He still wanted coffee, so he pulled out another mug.

“Oh, show me how to do that!” Lovey straightened and moved toward him.

He backed up.

“So I know for next time,” she said, taking in the stupid way he’d retreated as if she was coming at him with the butt end of a hockey stick. Her eyes flickered. The corners of her mouth tipped up ever so slightly. “So…turn it on here…”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, praying she didn’t look down to where his hard-on bulged. “Water goes in here…there’s enough right now for another cup…put the K-cup in here…press this button. Wait until it stops.”

“Awesome. So easy. I have to get one of these things. Trips to Starbucks add up to a lot of money.”

“I guess.”

She shifted closer, tossed her hair behind her shoulder, and smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

He stared down at her, taking in the pretty flecks of gold and brown in eyes that were really green, the faint freckles scattered over her small nose and high cheekbones, her long gold eyelashes.